The mediocre is drawing me downward-drowning
and I run back to my home-dungeon
buried half-naked in the groundling-dark
because the midnight
was all I ever knew
in the circumference of my soul

But I know one desperate, painful-cry
and you will lift me from the mire
fit my robe
with angelwings
and show me that I was meant for better
"just enough."

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